A lone man sits in his darkened chamber, eyeing his daggers with weary eyes. His mind slowly wanders to the past. There was a time in which he had served them. He had thought of it as his duty, and under his careful leadership, the devastated capital had been recreated into a new city, a city that surpassed even the past capital's might and glory in its prime. But after that incident… After that treachery… He narrows his eyes in rage and disgust. Slowly, he sheathes his left dagger and holds his right dagger up, as if to examine his blade in the nonexistent light. He reaches for his whetstone, and places it on the small table in front of him. Slowly, he places the blade of his dagger on it… and swipes it across. Sparks fly from the blade, faintly illuminating the dark room as the rough stone grinds away at the shrieking blade's edge. As he sharpens his trusted dagger, he hears another sound beside the screech of his blade. Footsteps. He pauses as they gradually get closer, the creaking of the old wooden deck getting louder and louder. The creaking pauses, and is replaced with a brief flurry of knocks on his door, and the creak of the door as it opens. He glances upwards as bright light fills the room from the doorway.
"Interesting… What could possibly justify you disturbing me in my private quarters?"
"I-I-I'm sorry sir," mutters a masked man in the doorway, his voice quivering in fear. How could he keep his composure, when in the audience of this man? Sitting in front of him is Edwin VanCleef, leader of the Defias Brotherhood. Clad in dark purple garbs, his obsidian eyes peer at the masked man from under his trademark crimson bandanna. "It's just… I think you should come see this. There seem to be intruders in the Deadmines."
"…How far in are they?" asks VanCleef. He slowly stands up, sliding the dagger in his right hand into its sheath.
"They've made it past the Goblin Foundry, sir." The masked man replies, stepping sideways as VanCleef walks by, his boots gliding across the wooden floor.
"I see… Mr Smite," VanCleef says. A dark furred Tauren melts out from the shadows.
"Yes sir?" Mr. Smite replies.
"See that our…. Ah, visitors, are properly welcomed aboard the ship."
"With pleasure sir."